Keep It A Secret
by UndoneChaos
Summary: The Goth boys would never tell anyone what they did. M for next chapter, this will be a two-shot. Dylan/Georgie/Evan
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I really don't own this.**

It was their little secret, and just having it was almost too conformist. This secret wasn't one you would expect to hear though, nor something anyone should be ashamed of. But they were. In their own Gothic, sick, and twisted way, they were afraid of being the same.

The Goth boys' blood pumped for them to be different, their hearts ached for it. So it was times like these, these secret times, when they were ashamed to feel no different than anyone else. It was times when they would let their emotions show as the true Emo fags they were deep down, though they would never admit it.

They'd never tell Henrietta, that was clear as crystal. They wouldn't tell _anyone_. They were too… Afraid. They feared to be the same. No one could know what they did on the nights they felt so broken they could end it all–For real.

In the comfort of Evan's room, Dylan's black lightbulbs screwed into every outlet imaginable, Georgie's candles lit to complete the ambiance… The would sit in Evan's bed, beneath the thin, black covers. Georgie was always in the middle, sandwiched between the two older Goths. Evan and Dylan would trade sides occasionally, but currently Evan chose to reside on the left side with Dylan on the right.

They would sit, gay as fuck under the covers, three loose puzzle pieces from completely different puzzles that somehow fit perfectly, and cry. They'd fucking sob. Over and over and over, tears flowing and never stopping. They'd cry until they ran out of tears, to which their souls would cry blood as the convulsed and shook in each other's arms. They'd all grab pillows and scream into them, cursing God and the things that brought them to the world.

They would cry until they choked, and then cry some more. It wasn't a surprise that they didn't want people to know. The bed, of course, faced a mirror. Shattered, but nonetheless they could still see their sobbing, clutching, shaking bodies. They could still see each other's pain, they could see their eyeliner streak their pale cheeks and they'd cry some more. And some more.

They'd touch, too. Reach out and grab each other, hug one another tight as they sobbed into already soaked shirt fabric. And Evan, who was the oldest, would hold them together. Dylan's cheek almost always rested on Georgie's head, wetting his black hair with salted tears. Georgie would say in-between them, each hand clothing the others shirt as if to hold himself up.

When they were done crying, they would cry again. Because truth be told, the never would be done crying.


	2. Chapter 2

**Warning: This chapter contains a Ménage á trois probably resulting in a lot of butt-pain for our youngest Goth. A **_**lot**_**.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own. In any way, shape, or form.**

_OK. So maybe the Goth boys had two secrets. Usually they went hand in hand, although sometimes they only cried. But this secret they _really_ wouldn't tell anyone. If Henri, for example, found out they cried together, the wold wouldn't be over._

_But if she found out the other thing, it really would be. Because she would hate them for their conformity, although what they did wasn't out of love. It was more of a… Comfort thing. In their own sick, twisted, Goth way, this comforted them._

_It was the only time they stopped crying, and even then Georgie might from the pain. But he usually didn't. This particular night though, he couldn't stop._

Georgie lay on his back, arms above his head as the two boys his senior rocked inside of him. And he couldn't stop the tears. It didn't matter that this was the… God knows how manieth time they'd done this, it still hurt. And for the record, Evan and Dylan weren't exactly, well, small.

Dylan, who was the more emotionally oriented of the two older boys, would lean down and capture Georgie's purple-lipsticked lips in a passionate kiss, distracting the younger from the constant pain. Evan, the more sexually oriented of the two, would lean down to give Georgie lust-driven hickeys or love-bites that had the smaller boy moaning into Dylan's mouth.

As they simultaneously thrusted into Georgie, the boy would throw his head back in pure masochistic pleasure and moan through his crystal tears, only encouraging his two friends more. When they eventually came, overwhelming Georgie so much that he would follow suit almost immediately, they would all break into tears.

The three Goth boys would all then lay, curled up in Evan's all-too-familiar bed, resting against one another and dreaming of a better life. Because just because they were Goth, didn't mean they couldn't dream.

And no-one would ever need to find out.

**Please forgive my rather short and probably sucky threesome. I hadn't written one before. :P **


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